There He Goes

There he goes. The man accused of being an accessory to the deaths of some
29,000 people while serving as a Guard in a Nazi Germany death camp. The man who claims he was a Ukrainian POW. The 89-year-old man on his way to Germany to await a trial he’ll probably never live to see. The man who yelled "I love you" in Ukrainian to his family as the US Government whisked him away from his suburban home outside of Cleveland, Ohio. The man who will take the truth to his grave no matter what happens. The man who can only be tried - truly - in front of God.

Metamorphistication

I'm happy to report that I have broken free of my creator. Just as Kilgore Trout was given freedom by his creator in Kurt Vonnegut's brilliant Breakfast of Champions, I too have been liberated. I have gained my freedom because I persevered. I offered to talk to the Alien but he wanted nothing to do with me. I slept in trunks and watched my best friend die. I saw my wife leave me for an Alien. And still, on special nights, I look for her. But I am free. I did not ask to be made young. I didn't even ask for my freedom. But I have it and I shall not ignore it.

Bad Bidniz

I came across this article about a baseball player who was traded for 10 bats - yes, I wrote that correctly . Many of you probably already heard of him. Being an Indians fan I don't know how many times I've heard, "trade him for a bag of balls," "a bag of peanuts," "get his ass out of here," anon. Well, poor John C. Odom was traded for 10 bats. Apparently, the trade for a slugger (not a Louisville Slugger, but a real breathing person) fell through, and his former team - the mighty Calgary Vipers of the independent Golden Baseball Leauge - turned down an offer of $1000 because they didn't want to appear to be in financially dire straits. So they traded him for bats. Yes, bats. At first he took the trade okay, did the interviews, laughed at the Batman jokes, etc. Fast forward six months later and he's dead of - among other things - a heroin overdose. A former manager, who genuinely seems to feel for the kid, wonders if the trade had anything to do with it, but says we can never be too sure. Really? I think we can.

And here's the problem with sports. It's not real anymore. I don't even know why we bother. With all the free agency, steroids, and salary figures that go beyond my comprehension, why not just watch video games. Is it because the game would no longer be about chance? I'm not so sure it is now.

The long and short of it is we - the fans - have lost touch with the reality of anything when we view it through a sports lens. We like to yell, scream, and ridicule. It's a great way to let out our own frustrations. It's also a great way to lose our self respect. In the meantime, the absurdly rich get exponentially richer (yes, Manny Ramirez just signed his two-year $45-million contract after rejecting a two-year $45-million contract), and we root for teams who somehow represent us and our fair cities. I'm trying not to throw up in my mouth as I write that. And somewhere, some kid dreams of being a professional ball player, and he is failing. And maybe he can handle it. And maybe he can't. And maybe he'll survive and move on to the next phase of his life, or maybe he'll become an alocholic, drug addict, abuser, or God knows what else.

The PS to this whole story. The team claims they did not trade him as a publicity stunt. If you believe that, you probably believe the Indians and Cubs will meet in the World Series this fall. The whole business of sports is a publicity stunt, and if you ask me, it stinks.